Eagle Heart
by SilverTrain
Summary: Alfred had thought he was a pretty normal guy. So when he suddenly grew wings and started developing superpowers, it had surprised him. Now the only logical step is to become a superhero! Eventual RusAme.
1. Chapter 1

Whoo! I've been super excited about starting this story! I've had the idea stuck in my head forever. I hope that you enjoy it! I own nothing.

* * *

><p><em>Chapter One<em>

All that Arthur wanted when he got home to his apartment was to be able to relax and enjoy his favorite book "The Complete Works of Shakespeare" while sipping some Earl Grey and lounge on the couch comfortably with his hand-knit blanket (no laughing!). Really, it was all he wanted. Was that really too much to ask for? It apparently was. As soon as Arthur unlocked and opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of his roommate's tan back. Now this wouldn't normally be a problem, because Arthur was used to Alfred running around the house in varies levels of coverage, but today was special, because Alfred was currently sporting two large magnificent _wings _jutting from his shoulder blades, the feathers all sorts of shades of brown, vibrant and shining in the light shed by the window on their living room's left wall. Alfred was standing in front of a full length mirror hanging on the wall by the couch near the corner where the left wall met the living room's back wall, and they caught each other's surprised faces in its reflection. So instead of falling asleep contentedly on the couch, Arthur found himself passed out from shock on the cold concrete in front of his apartment door.

Alfred woke up just the way he did every day. He woke completely cocooned in his blankets like a nest, and curled up in a ball, though he clearly remembered falling asleep perfectly normal on his stomach, his arms curled comfortably under his pillow. He blinked is eyes lazily, trying to make sense of how to get out of his covers in his still sleep fogged brain. After finally clawing his way out, and having an unwelcome and painful visit with the floor, Alfred managed to untangle himself. He looked over at the clock on his night stand beside his bed after he had located his glasses, and the glowing blue lights told him it was about three in the afternoon. He yawned and stretched, looking about his room. Clothes littered the carpeted floors and his bed was a complete mess, considering that he just rolled out of it. His walls were tapped with all sorts of posters of different movies, superheroes, and bands that Alfred liked, as well as photos of him and his friends stuck in the edges of the mirror attached to his dresser. Alfred figured that since he was in college, he could afford to still be messy, at least until he got a place of his own. At the moment, he shared an apartment with one of his friends since childhood, Arthur Kirkland. Arthur liked to bicker and nag, but that was really just his way of caring. Once they figured out that they were going to the same college, they worked out getting an apartment together to cut on living expenses.

The deal worked out great, all things considered. It was just that they had to actually live together that sometimes caused problems. Were as Arthur was a bit of a neat freak, Alfred liked to just dump his stuff where ever he felt like it. Arthur loved to drink tea, but Alfred hated the stuff, and always made coffee, which Arthur equally detested. Alfred's classes were at night, so he slept through the morning, and got up in the afternoon to do whatever he wanted before his classes started later. Arthur's classes were in the morning, so he went to bed early and got up early as well. They only got to see each other on weekends, that is, if their sleep patterns weren't so screwed up that they were each sleeping when the other was awake. They both had completely different majors. Arthur was into creative writing and journalism, and Alfred was working on being an astrologist. To top it off, Arthur also worked as an intern at a local newspaper firm, so after his classes ended around lunch, he was peeling off for his work in order to make it on time. Alfred's part time job was at a local comic book store, which he worked at in the afternoons before his classes started, and didn't work on Saturdays or Sundays. He had been going there ever since he was little, and it was almost a dream to be able to work there while he was at college. It really helped that one of his best friends and his family owned the store, the liveliest bunch of people Alfred had ever seen. The only one that seemed to be normal was his friend Kiku. The only thing that bugged him was that sometimes he didn't get along with the customers, because they were just so disrespectful of the merchandise, and didn't understand their true value and beauty! Stupid punks were always coming in the store and trying to pick fights with him. He only got along with the really dedicated and 'nerdy' comic book fans.

Alfred picked out what he was going to wear for the day from his dresser drawers. He knew if they were clean, they would be in the dresser, as only dirty clothes ever littered his floors. He picked out a pair of Levi's and his awesome Gryffindor shirt. It had even came with a tie when he bought it from Hot Topic. He thought that was cool. He slipped into a nice, steaming hot shower provided by the bathroom attached to his room. Both his and Arthur's room, which was directly across from his, had bathrooms connected to them. The room layouts were practically the same except flipped, and of course the content was different as well, due to the drastically different decorating styles of the two men. And Alfred's room had a window. Alfred totally claimed his room simply because it was the one with the window. Arthur always complained that Alfred hogged the hot water, but he really couldn't help it. It was the weekend, and he had classes off, so he wasn't in a rush, and just stood there and enjoyed the spray, his eyes sliding closed. Arthur wouldn't be back for a few hours, he figured, so he could do whatever he wanted. Even if Arthur didn't have classes on weekends, he still had to work, except for Sunday. Totally awesome.

It was then that he felt it; an odd jolting, tingling sensation creeping up and down his spine. His eyebrows furrowed and he felt an intense sensation on his shoulder blades, like an itch. It felt extremely irritating, and he cursed as he clawed at his back, trying to relieve the discomfort. It didn't really hurt, it was just so excruciatingly _annoying_. Like someone was tickling his muscles underneath his skin, along with the sensation of a mosquito bite that you had just scratched once and then left alone, letting the itching grow unbearable. He could feel some pain as his nails dug into his back, but he couldn't really find himself in the right mind to care. And then, suddenly, there was a feeling of something sliding out of his back, and the sensation was relieved immediately. Alfred sighted in pure rapture as his arms fell limply to his sides. He was so glad that experience was over. He hummed, and got a washcloth to rub over his back to see what kind of damage that he had done with his nails when he was scratching. When he reached back there, however, his fingertips just barely grazed something that didn't feel right. He craned his neck in an attempt to look over his shoulder, and his eyes widened.

"What the hell?" He choked, seeing the blurry outline of wings in his peripheral vision, protruding from his shoulder blades. He quickly scrambled out of the shower, pushing the curtains aside violently as he reached for his glasses beside the sink and looked in the bathroom mirror. I stood, dumbfounded and blinking, at the sight of him with these large wings with all different shades of brown feathers. Gradually, as Alfred stared, his vision started to blur, and his head and eyes hurt as he stared through his glasses. Cursing, he took them off, and his vision was cleared.

"What- huh?" He murmured to himself. He'd always needed glasses, ever since he was a kid. And now suddenly his vision was correcting itself? Though Alfred didn't know it, his vision sharpened even beyond normal human eyesight. His sight could be compared to a hawk's now. A shining ring of amber-gold melted and stained is irises around his pupils, so his eyes looked like the sky with an eclipse in it. Instead of keeping in his room like he should have, as he really had no clue when Arthur could get back from his work, as his hours were quite unpredictable, he rushed into the living room after throwing on some boxers, feet pounding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway and living room. At least he had enough sense to remember those. He stepped in front of the full-length mirror and stood, staring. A long time seemed to pass as his mind tried to comprehend just what had happened to him. When he finally seemed to snap out of it, he realized that he probably shouldn't be standing in the living room like this, with the wings on his back fluttering nervously, feathers ruffled as if they were attuned to Alfred's feelings and were physically showing his distress.

It was just as this thought crossed his mind that he heard the front door unlocking and opening. He stared at the door's reflection in mild horror as Arthur's familiar figure stepped into the living room. His head turned and acid green eyes immediately honed in to those large wings. They each locked fixated stares on each other's shocked faces. They stood, frozen in time, for what seemed to be an eternity, though it was only about a minute or two. Alfred could see Arthur's eyes start to roll up and knew he was going to fall. Alfred felt his wings coil instinctually as he leapt forward to try and catch Arthur before he fell and hurt himself on the hard concrete in front of their apartment door, where he could easily crack his skull. He shot forward, an extra boost being gained from stepping and leaping off their coffee table that was in front of their couch and was in his way. His wings stretched out, almost hitting their TV off its stand on the wall beside the door, centered nicely in front of the coffee table and couch. His wings pumped down a single time, powerfully, giving him a powerful surge of momentum that allowed him to reach his arms out and catch Arthur before he hit the ground. Alfred let out a grunt as he hit the floor, painfully landing on his side as he tried to angle himself so that Arthur wouldn't be the first to touch the ground. Luckily, his wings bent up against his back just in time not to be crushed or to bang against the door frame.

His ears pounded as the adrenaline shot through him. He could feel the calling, the tugging in his mind, his wings begging to be used again. Now that he had used them, it seemed like a drug, only making him want more. He lifted Arthur up off the floor easily and laid him on the couch. He just felt positively invigorated, and he was surprised he wasn't hovering off the floor with the way his wings were shifting and fluttering on his back, stirring the air around him. Alfred couldn't help but relate it to the sight of two over-excited children. With a fool-hardy determination, he went back to his room to pull on his jeans before crossing back through the living room to the door. He stuck his head out cautiously and looked around the deserted hallway. To the left of their door, down the hall was the stairwell leading down to the ground level from their floor, which was the seventh and top floor. The place was a bit older, so it didn't have an elevator. To the right was a small balcony with a tiny little iron guardrail as the only protection from the long fall to the street below. His and Arthur's was the last apartment on the floor. There were six apartments on each floor, besides the ground floor which was the lobby, three on one side of the hall and three on the other.

Alfred could feel his heart pumping as wildly as his wings as he cautiously closed the door behind him and moved to the guardrail, which barely reached his waist. He _really _wasn't thinking straight as he gripped the rail firmly and brought his feet up on the rail one at a time to perch on it much like a bird of prey. He couldn't ignore the intense calling, the fantastic instinct of 'I _need _to get up in the air _now_.' His wings pumped even as he surveyed the streets below. No one was even bothering to look up from their own lives down on the busy streets. In this city, everyone kept their head down and minded their own business. With one last second, Alfred steeled his nerve and felt his wings coiling and flapping harder in anticipation. He took a deep breath, which really did nothing to calm him, and he leapt upward in a powerful burst, his wings catching the winds beneath them and riding them like invisible cables. It felt... God, it just felt amazing! Alfred soared higher, feeling his blood singing. He felt _right_. He was where he should be. He soared over buildings and weaved around skyscrapers. He shot like an arrow towards a skyscraper before pulling up quickly to trail up its reflective window-covered side, climbing higher and higher until he reached the top and landed, clinging to the spire and sighing with content.

Alfred only then noticed the birds that had started to flock around him. Alfred shooed them away in annoyance before lifting off again and flying back to the apartment, finding it easy to navigate and tell which direction he was supposed to go. He looked down, wondering if anyone had noticed him. But he was so high up, that no one could possibly see him clearly at this distance. He might have even just looked like a large bird from up here. Even so, his eyes honed in on the ground, like how an eagle looking for its prey would. He found that he could make out everything on the streets distinctly, and see the people, the crowds, the cars all easily. It amazed him, just how he could see it all. He _had _worn glasses practically his whole life. It almost overwhelmed him, but he focused back on flying and the sensation of it swept it away. He quickly darted onto the balcony of the seventh floor of his apartment and into the hallway like the arrow fired from an expert marksman, his wingspan shrinking as his wings folded so that they wouldn't hit the sides of the building. He landed in a crouching position on the hallway floor, wings tucked and folded on his back. All of these things he did on instinct, as if something deep inside him just took over. He knew that he probably would have screwed up flying so badly if his wings didn't know what to do for him before he had to waste time thinking about his next actions.

Alfred only then remembered that Arthur was passed out on the couch, and would probably be freaked out if he woke up to find the apartment empty. He quickly entered the apartment to find Arthur starting to groan and move on the couch, waking up from his faint. Alfred shut the door behind him and walked up to Arthur on the couch, crouching down so that they would be eye level if he rolled over to face him. Alfred couldn't erase the wide, cheeky grin splitting his face open as he balanced on the balls of his bare feet. Arthur finally rolled over to face him, starting a little to find Alfred right there in front of his face. His eyes slid onto his wings almost immediately, and he sputtered and tried to find something to say. When he finally found words, Arthur did the only thing that he could do in this situation. Complain and fuss.

"Alfred! You git! You better not shed those bloody feathers over the whole damn apartment! Because i know that you haven't cleaned up after yourself a day in your life! Sweet flying mint bunny, what the hell did you do now?" Arthur yelled and huffed. Alfred's smile never wavered from his face.

"Why don't I make you some tea?" Alfred offered, and Arthur flopped back on the couch and groaned, simply laying there and draping his arm over his eyes. Alfred crossed the living room and went through the arch way into the kitchen, the tiles cold on Alfred's bare feet. There was a small island, a lone row of cabinets and counter on the far wall with a refrigerator in the corner with a dishwasher beside it. The stove was in the other corner, and a sink was in the middle. There were some stools set up at the island, but the two men mostly ate out. The only one that could even attempt to cook was Alfred, because anything that Arthur tried to cook turned out inedible and burnt beyond recognition. Alfred could cook as long as he had a recipe to follow, or was making sandwiches. He really did best at grilling, but as they neither had a grill nor the space for it, he really never had a chance to make any grilled food. Which was a shame because his burgers were to die for. He had to settle for using the stove and pan to cook burgers whenever they bought hamburger meat. The only thing that Arthur could make with any level of proficiency was tea. Though, Alfred wouldn't really know, since he hated the stuff and didn't know how it was supposed to taste in the first place. The only reason Alfred knew how to make tea was so that he could do it whenever he needed to calm Arthur down, such as right now.

He moved about the kitchen fluidly, wanting to make the tea as quickly as possible. He worked quietly and started to wonder if his wings were retractable and how he would ever be able to hide them if the things weren't. His wings, when folded, arched up to the level of the top of Alfred's head, and then the longest feathers reached all the way down to Alfred's mid-calf. His wingspan was almost the length of the kitchen. There was just no way he could hide them underneath a shirt. But, thankfully, he realized he didn't have to worry, because as soon as he started to freak out over it, his wings started to retract like a cat's claws and slid right back into his back, completely in tune with Alfred's wishes. They were already much like his other limbs, moving as he wished, except more awesome and also having instincts of their own. He wondered how that even worked, his wings fitting into his back like that. But he figured not to worry about it. They were out of the way, and that was really all that mattered at this point. He couldn't help but notice that it felt weird, though. It just felt so restricting... like clothing that was too small, suffocating him. It was really annoying. He couldn't help but compare it to the thought of a woman wearing a bra that was too small for her, or something like a sports bra, that squished the girl's boobs so they wouldn't move.

He chuckled at his metaphor, thinking of the sensitive and sweet lady that he worked out with at the gym on Sundays. He had helped the poor, flustered woman figure out how to use one of the treadmills, for which she had thanked him profusely, before the two started a slightly awkward friendship. But Alfred couldn't help himself at wanting to help the woman out. She always seemed so clumsy and was always teary-eyed over something. What kind of hero would he be if he just left her high and dry? So, the two had started to work out together, if only so Alfred could make sure the other woman didn't hurt herself. She had some sort of weird name that was from a foreign language, Russian if Alfred remembered correctly, so he just called her Kat for short. She had a bad habit of calling him Alfie, which just made him sound like a little kid, because she just seemed to go into mother mode at Alfred's sometimes childish enthusiasm and behavior. It wasn't so bad though, because the only time she didn't seem like she was about to cry was when she was gushing at him.

The shrill cry of the kettle on the stove startled Alfred out of his musings, and he started to finish up fixing the tea for Arthur. His mind really drifted when he wasn't focusing on something. He carried the tea cup carefully to the living room, where Arthur was in the same position on the couch as Alfred had left him. He set the cup on down on the coffee table and then pushed Arthur's legs out of the way so that he could sit down on the couch as well. Arthur drew his knees up to make room, and an awkward silence fell upon them.

"So, Francis hasn't been fired for inappropriate conduct yet?" Alfred asked. He could see the corners of Arthur's mouth twitch as he smiled for the briefest moments.

"Unfortunately, no. He was being especially annoying today, too. Was constantly talking about how his love advice column was so much more popular than my reviews on museum exhibits."

"Well, it is more interesting to read," Alfred confessed light-heartedly. Arthur sat up to glare at Alfred, and Alfred could tell he was scanning his back for anything out of the ordinary. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he moved into a normal sitting position on the couch and reached to take his tea from the coffee table to drink. Alfred was tempted to ask if his back looked odd, since his wings were now retracted inside of it, but he refrained, as he didn't want to risk freaking his friend out again. After all, he was going to have to trust Arthur to keep quiet about this.

"You went out after I passed out," It wasn't a question, but a statement, "You looked completely disheveled. It was quite obvious what you had been up to. I'll have you know that flying around is extremely dangerous and you're a bloody idiot for going out there! What if someone saw you?" Arthur's voice steadily rose in volume as he continued to talk. Arguing was really the only way that Arthur was going to be able to cope with this, so even though he looked angry, Alfred didn't really take it to heart. He knew how to handle the Brit's quirks after being friends with him for practically twelve years. They were both ten and in elementary school when they had first met.

"I really couldn't help it. It was like the sky was calling out to me. It felt like home up there," Alfred responded wistfully. It could really only be compared to a mother calling her child from playing outside. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes, well, refrain from doing so until you find a way to do it safely without someone catching you, at least. There are plenty of crazy, lunatic journalists that would love to be the one to get the chance to report on this. I would know, as I seem to work with practically all of them." At this information, Alfred's smile turned sheepish as he stared at Arthur, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and through the hair at his nape.

"You, um... you won't... report me or anything... will you? I mean, who knows what they'll do to me!" He spoke.

"Alfred."

"They'll turn me into a government experiment!"

"Alfred."

"They'll be cutting me open, and shooting me up with drugs, and-"

"ALFRED! Calm down! You honestly think that I would do that? And how long have we know each other?" Arthur scolded him.

"Hey, I gotta make sure. Cover all my bases, and stuff." Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn't really seem too bothered. He was used to Alfred's quirks just as much as Alfred was used to his.

"Well, just belt up and keep your nose clean, and you'll be alright," Arthur's large eyebrows then furrowed as he looked at Alfred, "Your eyes. They're two colors now? You're going to need to wear colored contacts to correct that and make your eyes look normal."

"I don't even need my glasses anymore either!" Alfred told Arthur excitedly, "In fact, I think I have super sight. I can see things clearly even from way far away. I know because I could see people walking on the streets clearly even when I was up in the air flying." Arthur seemed to turn a little green. It was no secret that Arthur hated flying about as much as Alfred hated sailing. Neither of them could do it without becoming violently ill. It was very ironic that Alfred loved to fly, and Arthur loved to sail. Arthur's expression then turned thoughtful.

"You must have adopted traits from birds of prey. Hawks have extremely good sight. You really should look these things up so you'll be prepared. And you might want to get some non-prescription, decorative glasses so no one will get suspicious that you suddenly are wearing contacts or something. Lord knows how you always complained whenever you wore them." Alfred's face lit up like a child at Christmas.

"What would I do without you Artie! You're the best! Are you going to keep tabs on your reporter friends for me like a spy? You can be my side-kick, Artie!" Arthur's eye twitched, both at the statement and the nickname.

"I told you not to call me that. And I'm not your bloody side-kick! I'm doing this for you because you're my friend. Ugh, I can't believe you forced me to say that out loud. But... I guess I'll keep my eyes open. This is probably the _only _time that I will _ever _be glad to have my desk near Francis's. He's the biggest gossip in the whole building. I'll know if anything comes up." Alfred bounced up and down on the couch happily and was about to pounce on Arthur to hug him, if not for Arthur raising his tea cup threateningly. Alfred knew that Arthur would never throw one of his precious tea cups, but Alfred humored him and backed off. It was all good fun.

"So," Alfred spoke up, "I guess the next logical course of action is for me to use my newfound powers for justice and fight crime!" Arthur spat out the tea he was drinking and coughed loudly.

"WHAT? Are you completely _mad_? You should be laying low and trying _not_ to draw attention to yourself! You aren't some comic book character, Alfred. I know that this must seem like some golden opportunity, or whatever, to become just like the superheroes I know that you idolize, but think things through logically for once in your life!" Arthur ranted.

"Don't worry Arthur, I'll figure everything out. Just keep up everything on your end, ok? I'll take care of the rest," Alfred replied in a tone that, though was light-hearted, still left the feeling that there was no room for argument. Arthur, having known Alfred for as long as he did, knew when Alfred could be pressed to do something, and when Alfred wouldn't back down. This was one of those times, he felt, when Alfred would stand firm as a statue for his belief. He let out a deep sigh.

"Just promise you'll be careful. Just _try _to be careful. I know I can't stop you from engaging in any reckless behavior, and how unbelievably impulsive you are, but just be _careful_." And with that, Arthur stood and took his now empty cup to the kitchen.

"Thanks Artie," Alfred spoke softly. Alfred got up as well and headed back into his room. He was about to continue dressing, but thought better of it and gave up the idea in favor of changing into some sweat pants and a work out shirt. He knew that he normally didn't work out on Saturdays and went Sunday, but he really felt like he needed the workout to clear his head and to work out all of the energy he suddenly felt like he had to get rid of. He pulled on some socks and a pair of running shoes, grabbed up his cell phone and his extra key to the apartment before shoving them in the pockets in his sweats (yes, they had pockets, isn't that so awesome?) and prepared to head out. Seeing Alfred leave had only caused Arthur to look at him blankly, then raise a singly eyebrow, before simply just shaking his head and not saying anything. Alfred stepped out and shut the door firmly behind him.

* * *

><p>That was the first chapter! Any reviews are greatly appreciated! I like knowing what you think about the story! So please, do try to give me feedback and what you liked about it. It really helps, I promise!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Here we go! Chapter two! I'm pretty proud of this chapter, personally. I hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Two <em>

Alfred jogged all the way from the apartment to the gym without breaking a sweat. He loved the feel of the air and wind rushing past him, but he knew it was nothing compared to flying. He had to fight of the strong urge to just simply kick off and take flight right then and there on the sidewalk. Instead, jogged up to the gym entrance and went inside, a spring in his step. The place looked like how anyone would imagine a gym to look. Bright lighting, rows of treadmills, weight lifters, shelves with assortments of weights and dumbbells on them, and lots of sweaty people working out or lounging on the big inflated exercise balls, which really just looked like beach balls to Alfred. Alfred could immediately pick out Kat working out by herself on one of the treadmills. She was a bit hard to miss. He strolled up in front of her and waved to get her attention, as she had that intense, focused look that Alfred only saw her get when she was working at something very hard.

"Oh!" She exclaimed upon seeing him, her face melting to a look of surprise before it turned into a pleased expression, "Alfie! You usually don't come here on Saturdays."

"I needed to blow off some steam," Alfred told her simply. Kat nodded her head sympathetically, and Alfred started to set up the treadmill beside her to use.

"You are doing well?" Kat asked him.

"Yup, I'm doing pretty good, overall. You're doing good too?"

"Yes, I'm fine as well," Kat replied. This was how their greetings usually went, vaguely saying just if they were fine or not, and never really going into detail. Neither really minded this, however. They were only exercise partners, after all. They usually worked in comfortable silence, and sometimes chatted aimlessly about random topics. All of the men completely salivated over Kat, and gave Alfred the evil eye. The same went for girls eyeing Alfred like he was made of chocolate, and Kat like she was garbage. It was almost enough to make Alfred think he was going against the natural order of the universe not to be attracted to Kat. But he had come to terms with his sexuality all the way back in freshmen year of high school, and if he hadn't, he would probably have been going through a crisis of epic proportions and questioning his manliness and sanity. But because he had already gone through all of that, and concluded he could still be his manly awesome self as long as he still enjoyed doing manly things and keeping in shape and still dressing like a normal person and all that, that he would be ok. Nothing about his habits or personality had changed. He just preferred men. Preferably men that were as cool and manly as himself, and not all effeminate and girly. It _really_ wasn't his style.

Alfred supposed that Kat most liked his company because he was practically the _only_ guy the _whole gym _that _hadn't _hit on her or try to grope her or anything like that. Alfred found those men disgusting. Had they no pride as men? Alfred always respected women. Well, unless they were complete bitches or something. But since Kat wasn't anything like that, she had nothing to worry about. Of course, when Alfred had first encountered and helped Kat, she hadn't known this and was obviously a bit wary of him. He offered to help her, and even thought it was hard for him _not _to stare at her chest (come on! They were HUGE!), he made no advances on her of any kind. And when she finally figured he wasn't interested, she took to him almost immediately, craving a friend that made her feel less awkward, and less like a piece of meat every time she worked out. Thanks to being with Alfred, she gained a bit of confidence, and could work out by herself without becoming flustered and self-conscious.

As Alfred's mind drifted beside her, Kat subtly noticed that Alfred didn't seem to be tiring at all. He seemed perfectly contented to just keep running at his medium set speed, and Kat almost supposed that he might be able to run like that forever. Alfred just let his mind go, until it had finally settled on that perfect memory and sensation of flight. God, he _craved _that feeling. It was a constant urge he had to suppress, like a dull aching in his heart. He just wanted to lift off and soar through the skies endlessly. He frequently remembered having dreams of flight constantly throughout his life, almost every night. It was then, in that instant where Kat was studying Alfred, that she noticed something off.

"Oh, Alfred! You aren't wearing your glasses today," she exclaimed, finally able to put her finger on it. Alfred almost stopped running in surprise, which would probably have caused an accident.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. I, uh, got contacts," Alfred told her, his mind reeling quickly, "My roommate had been nagging me that I could damage my glasses while working out so much that I decided to get them." The explanation was surprisingly believable for Alfred just pulling it out of his ass. He silently thanked Arthur for his nagging, as this argument had actually occurred, and Alfred remembered it in the nick of time.

"Oh, that's very sweet and thoughtful," Kat replied.

"You only think that because you haven't been targeted by his criticism before. I swear, he's always complaining about something that I've done or haven't done." But despite Alfred's words, he couldn't help the slight endearment in his voice, or the grin on his face. Arthur may have complained a lot, but it was only because he was so socially retarded that it was really the only way that he had learned to look after people. Alfred felt a bit obligated to become the man's friend when they were children, because Alfred had always seen him alone or getting picked on for his wild hair and eyebrows. Because, really, what kind of hero would he be if he didn't come to his rescue? And from that point on, they had become reluctant friends and were subjected to each other's bad habits and the abrasive parts of their personalities, which they had to endure. It really wasn't so bad once Alfred realized that Arthur's criticism was just the only way that Arthur knew how to express himself, and it really wasn't meant to harm or mock. Most of the time. Kat smiled fondly at Alfred.

"Yes, I understand. You stick by them despite their flaws. You two sound like close family. Like me and my siblings. I stick with them through everything." Alfred could see the tell-tale signs that Kat was starting to get emotional and might start to cry.

"Through everything," she repeated in a water voice as tears started to form along her bottom eyelids.

"Why don't you step off the treadmill before you hurt yourself?" Alfred offered, and he helped her get off of it.

"S-sorry," she apologized, wiping her eyes with her hands and arms. The two of them developed a bit of a kinship at that moment, over the simplest of things. But Alfred couldn't deny that Kat had sort of grown on him. He honestly would have considered her a friend in a heartbeat, and could easily think of her as a sister if he really wanted to. And Kat could sense a good friend in Alfred. A bit later, the duo prepared to leave the gym. Though Alfred wasn't really that tired, he had worked all of the excitement out of his blood, though it still singed for the skies. He had a feeling that the need would never really go away. For now, it had mostly faded into white noise in the back of his mind, the pull not as strong as it had been before, when he first was overwhelmed enough to take to the skies. Alfred and Kat had the same route for a couple of blocks, so they walked together, conversing amicably.

After about the first block, Alfred sensed a subtle shift in the air that sent him on edge. He could feel the muscles in his back tensing, waiting to spring at any moment. He didn't know what it was, maybe an animal instinct, but he just knew that something was _wrong_. Kat noticed the sudden concern that flickered on Alfred's face, and her own expression became worried.

"What is it?" She asked, but Alfred quickly put his finger to his lips, and she quieted. Alfred listened intently as they walked, the streets not really having any people on them due to being in a residential part of the city, where apartment complexes were everywhere. Alfred could barely hear the faint sound of steps behind him, wishing that he had been given super hearing as well. Then it would be easy to tell how many people were following them.

"How much farther is where you stay from where we usually part ways?" Alfred asked her quietly. She started to fluster as she replied.

"Oh, uh... it is quite a ways... maybe five blocks? Oh, I am not very sure..." Kat told him.

"Just stick with me then. They might get discouraged if they see you aren't going to split off by yourself." Kat gulped and nodded. They walked a distance, past where they usually separated, but the footsteps behind them continued, ever persistent. Alfred reasoned that if whoever it was still wanted to attack even with Alfred there to protect Kat, either they had a weapon, there was a group of them, or both. Alfred had no clue when they might decide to do something, but he knew that Kat wasn't rested enough to run the whole way back to Alfred's apartment just yet. Kat nervously looked behind her, and squeaked softly before turning back.

"Alfred... oh, there are at least four of them! One of the men has a baseball bat. What are we going to do?" She whispered.

"On my signal, we're going to run, ok? Grab my hand and don't let go. Got it?" Kat nodded meekly.

"Ready? Three... two... one!" Alfred and Kat shot forward, Kat grabbing onto Alfred's hand with a vice grip. Alfred felt the adrenaline pumping in his system, his legs pounding the pavement. He tried very hard not to drag Kat behind him, but it just seemed that she was going so _slow_. He could hear the group of men behind him, and he gritted his teeth. He could feel a sort of pulsing in his back, and he wrestled the feeling down. 'Not now!' he thought. He could hear Kat's breathing becoming labored and harsh. She could feel the burning in her lungs, and she didn't know if she could make it any farther.

"Alfred! Alfred, I can't...!" she cried, but Alfred held onto her, even as she fell, and stopped to shield her from the ground, before getting up and facing the men behind them. She staggered to her feet and stood frozen, like a deer in headlights. Alfred raised his fists and steeled himself, his eyes narrowing dangerously. If he had to, he would just beat the crap out of these guys until they left them alone. The men were all ugly and dirty looking, their clothes grimy, sagging, and even torn. The three were gangly and looked kind of weak, but the forth holding the baseball bat lumbered behind them, as he was very heavy set. Alfred was loath to think that it was all more muscle than fat.

"We were going to catch the girlie off by herself, but you just had to step in, didn't you?" He sneered as the caught up and started to circle them. Even if Kat ran now, she probably wouldn't get very far, as she was panting and tired, and would probably be easy to catch up to. She had a better chance just staying put and letting Alfred protect her or, if she could, fighting herself. But Alfred would rather she didn't. He would hate it if she got hurt. The men were advancing on the two, steadily backing them into a dead end alleyway. Alfred tried to use this to his advantage, so that he could keep the men in front of him so that they would be able to attack them from behind, as he kept Kat behind him.

"You guys better back off before I kick your ass," Alfred snarled. The four all started to laugh and the man with the bat spoke again.

"Nice try, but that won't work with us. You're outnumbered. We're going to own you." He snapped his fingers, and the three other lackeys leapt at him. Alfred socked the first in the jaw, before rounding a kick to the second's gut, and then leaping and swinging his foot violently upward into the third's jaw, sending his head snapping back as he fell backwards. The leader took this opportunity to crack his bat on the side of Alfred's face, sending him slamming into the brick wall. Kat screamed as Alfred's mind spun, and he could feel the blood welling in his mouth and in his hair on the side of his head, almost on his temple. He struggled to stay on his feet as his vision started to clear, spitting the blood in his mouth onto the ground. He then felt another blow come down on his head, thankfully from a fist and not the bat again, sending him to the ground, where he caught himself on his elbows and knees. He was kicked violently in his stomach, causing him to spit out more blood from his mouth. He was then grabbed up by his hair and then held from behind by one of the thugs.

"Don't worry, we'll take nice care of your little girly friend," he heard the leader sneer at him.

"Fuck off!" Alfred shouted, causing another blow to his gut.

"Alfred!" Kat shouted, "Oh please stop! Just stop it!" Alfred looked up to see her grabbed by the other two lackeys, and she struggled vainly. Soon, her cries became frantic, and her speech degraded from English into her native language.

"Someone shut this bitch up!" the leader shouted, and smacked her hard across her mouth. She froze then, stunned, and one of the thugs pulled out a rag and gagged her mouth with it. Alfred started to shake with fury as the leader advanced on Kat, and he became blinded by rage. Who the hell did these guys think they were! He had to save Kat! He let out a roaring yell, that turned into a violent shriek, that sounded much like the war cry of an eagle. His wings burst forth from his back, completely ripping the back of his shirt, and breaking the bones in the forearms of the guy that was holding Alfred with the power and speed that they ejected, making him slam back into the wall. The other men and Kat stared in complete shock. Alfred bared his teeth and lunged forward, cracking his fist hard against the leader's face, both feeling and hearing bones just breaking and giving way under his knuckles. It sent the man slamming back with a force that no human could possibly have produced with that simple action alone. Alfred grabbed the man's shirt violently and lifted him up until his feet couldn't touch the ground anymore, and slammed him down to the ground, before stomping down and breaking the man's legs. Alfred grabbed up the bat the man had dropped and turned to the other two that were holding Kat. They trembled and let her go, and she fell to her knees. They backed against the wall, but Alfred wouldn't let them get off so easily, and cracked the bat hard against the first's gut, making the man spew blood from his mouth, and it projected and landed on the opposite wall. He fell limply to the ground. The last man was now begging for his life and groveling on the ground. Alfred brought his foot down mercilessly on the guys hip, fracturing and shattering it. The man let out a wail of pain before passing out from its intensity.

Kat trembled as she slowly pulled the gag from her mouth, as if not wanting to make any sudden movements, lest she make Alfred attack her as well. Alfred stood there, panting, letting the bat slip from his grasp to fall on the ground. His shoulders slumped and he turned to Kat slowly, with a worried look on his face.

"You aren't hurt, are you?" He asked, eyes searching her for any wounds. She appeared fine, if just shaken up. There was, however, a large distinct bruise forming on the side of her face where she was slapped, and harsh bruises where she was grabbed around the arms by the thugs when they were holding her. Alfred, however, had a gash on the side of his head, a split lip, a few broken ribs, a bit of internal bleeding, and a high probability of a concussion, with the way he had been hit with the bat earlier, not to mention the bruises on his face and chest. Kat trembled, but finally found her voice again.

"A-Alfred... I... Thank you so much! You... you saved me..." She felt ashamed for feeling scared of Alfred when those concerned blue-gold eyes looked at her so kindly, and was so worried for her health even though he looked far worse than she did. She wiped her face with her hands , tears that she had been crying when she saw them beating up Alfred still sliding down her cheeks.

"B-but, you really need medical attention more than I do," she sniffled. Alfred chuckled, wincing as he did so.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Come on, Arthur should still be home. He'll have a first aid kit somewhere," Alfred told her.

"Um... your.. ah... wings," Kat pointed out meekly.

"Oh, right," Alfred said, before concentrating hard to get his wings to retract and slide into his back smoothly. Alfred and Kat then retreated from the alleyway and Alfred led Kat back to his apartment. The seven flight of stairs were complete torture for the pair, but they managed to make it to the top floor and the end of the hallway. Alfred checked the door, and sure enough, it was unlocked. Alfred pushed open the door and walked in. Arthur was, as he originally planned before all of this had started, curled up on the couch under his hand-made blanket reading his book of Shakespeare plays. He looked up lazily before his eyes widened and his mouth slid open in complete surprise and horror.

"Good God, what happened?" He yelled, before surging up off the couch and helping Kat inside.

"We were jumped by a group of thugs, but I fought them off and took Kat here," Alfred informed Arthur.

"My lord, you must be terrified. Come with me, lassie, you can use my bathroom to get fixed up, since it's sure to be far cleaner than Alfred's. Here, Alfred, sit on couch and I'll come back with the first aid kit. But before you do that, go and get some of your clothes for the lady to change into, since she'll be able to fit into your clothes better than she would mine. I'm shorter than she is." And with that, Arthur bustled out of the living room, Kat following him, and back into his room. Alfred went to his room and pulled out an extra pair of sweats and one of his large night shirts for Kat. He came into Arthur's room and set them down in the bathroom for her as Arthur looked through his bathroom cabinets and found the first aid kit, before the two of them left Kat with the bathroom to herself and shut Arthur's door behind them. He felt his sweatpants' pocket, and was relieved to find that his key and phone were still in there and not broken or anything. He and Arthur returned to the living room and Alfred sat on the couch while Arthur took out the cotton balls and rubbing alcohol to clean out the cut on Alfred's lip.

"You can't even go one day without getting into some sort of trouble," Arthur admonished him softly. He looked into Arthur's eyes when he was done cleaning the small cut.

"Alright, tell me the damage," Arthur spoke.

"Well, I know I have to have some cracked ribs. And I have a gash on my head," Alfred told him.

"We'll have to wash the blood out of your hair to be able to see it. Wait here, I'll get a washcloth from your bathroom. You do have one in there, right? A clean one?" Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I do. I'm not a complete slob, Artie," he replied. Arthur then left and came back quickly with a damp washcloth. When he looked at Alfred, however, he froze.

"Dear lord. How many surprises am I going to have to suffer through before this day is over? Alfred, the cut on your lip is gone," Arthur told him. Alfred blinked.

"What?" He asked intelligently, before bringing his hand up to feel his lip. It wasn't split anymore. Arthur was staring at him again, not saying anything.

"What? What's happening?" He asked.

"Your bruise... on your face... it's just fading," Arthur said, eyes transfixed as Alfred's face rapidly healed itself.

"I know that birds don't have super healing," Alfred said.

"Well, then obviously you have other powers besides the wings and your sight," Arthur told him, rolling his eyes.

"That reminds me... I have super strength. When I was fighting the thugs that attacked Kat, I literally punched one guys face in, and lifted him off the ground. And the guy was _huge_."

"Alfred..." Arthur hesitated, "You didn't... kill them, did you?" Alfred sat there ,thinking.

"I... don't think so. The one guy only had broken arms, and I broke the other's face and legs... and I hit the third really hard in the intestines with a baseball bat. He was bleeding real bad from his mouth, but I don't know if it was enough for him to die from... and the last guy, I broke his hip with my foot when I stomped on him." Arthur just stood, his mouth having fallen open, just staring at Alfred.

"They really pissed me off! They were going to hurt Kat!" Alfred spoke, "I regret nothing!" He threw his hands up in the air. It was then that Arthur's door opened and Kat came out dressed in Alfred's clothes, hair wet. Her bruised face seemed even more painfully obvious than before for some reason, but the large shirt covered the bruises on her arms, as it was large enough that the sleeves came to her elbows.

"Thank you so much for taking care of me," She told the two of them. Arthur nodded, and cleared his throat a little.

"Oh, no, it was no trouble at all, my lady," He said, going into gentleman mode. Alfred smiled at his behavior.

"We couldn't just leave you hanging. It would be stupid of us not to help you out," Alfred told her. She smiled warmly.

"Well, thank you so much. Both of you," she looked around, and her eyes settled on the knit blanket, "I had noticed a lot of knit clothing and a knitting an embroidery kit in your room. Are they hobbies of yours?" She asked sweetly.

"Oh, well, yes. They are. I've been doing them ever since my mother taught me," Arthur replied, a blush creeping onto his face even as he tried not to look embarrassed.

"How wonderful! I myself was taught by my mother to knit as well! I am so glad I have found someone else who does crafts! None of the other ladies at work do, and since I can no longer garden, being in an apartment and all, I just feel so left out an lonely. I was so very glad to meet Alfred at the gym and get to become his friend."

"Hold on, you garden as well?" Arthur asked excitedly. 'Dear lord,' Alfred thought, 'the man is _such_ a woman. I have a feeling these two are going to be super good friends.' While the pair talked pleasantly about their girly hobbies, Alfred shuffled to his room, suddenly feeling really tired. Alfred didn't know if it was due to his super healing, or just the fact that it had been such an eventful day, but he suddenly just couldn't keep his eyes open. He opened his bedroom door, shut it behind him, emptied his phone and keys out onto the dresser, kicked off his socks and shoes, and then finally flopped down onto his bed, crawling to the other side to pick the covers off of the floor where they had been left from when he had tumbled off of it when he had woken up previously, and curled into his sheets contentedly, falling asleep almost immediately. The clock on his night stand read 7:02.

* * *

><p>And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed the fight scene. I really don't write many of those. More plot and action picking up soon! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Very greatly.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

This will probably be updating slower because I'm working on my other story more, and I really have almost no clue where I'm actually going with the plot of this story. So it'll just update when inspiration hits me, really. But, even so, this chapter was especially fun to write. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the reviews/alerts/favorites!

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Three<em>

It was colder than usual that Saturday night. Not colder than his home in Russia had been, Ivan thought, but it was still fairly cold. He stood waiting in the hospital lobby as his partner questioned the receptionist on four specific patients that they had admitted to the hospital earlier that afternoon.

"We're here to investigate what happened to them, ma'am," his Chinese partner informed her.

"Oh, you must be here to see those four boys then. Hold on one moment while I look up their room numbers on the computer," She told him politely. Yao nodded, darting his brown eyes to the tall Russian, giving him a thumbs up. Purple eyes scanned over the lobby, noting its bright lighting and it's exceeding whiteness. He had never really been fond of hospitals. He suspected that it was colder in here than it was outside, because he could feel his nose becoming cold, and he just knew it was red. It always turned red easily in the cold, as he was of extremely pale complexion. Both his skin and his hair. His partner was probably what a typical Chinese man would be expected to look like. He was thin as a sunflower stalk, but he was deceitfully strong as well. His hair was long, and pulled back in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Both men were dressed warmly in preparation for the cold night. They were both investigators at the police station, and someone had called 911 when they found four men beaten up severely in an alley. The two of them were sent to the hospital to question them when they were finally notified that they were awake and it was safe to do so. While the CSI team worked the crime scene for evidence, it was Ivan and Yao's job to work the witnesses, victims, and suspects for information. Yao wrote down the four room numbers that the clerk gave them and walked over to Ivan.

"The closest is in room 212," he told the taller than average man. And since Yao was a bit shorter than average height, the two contrasted each other perfectly. Ivan was of light complexion, and Yao had both darks skin and dark hair. Ivan was quiet, and only spoke when he felt the need to, but Yao had a tendency to ramble. Ivan preferred to take things slow, but Yao was very impatient when it came to things that caught his interests, though he could be patient at times as well. The two of them stepped in the elevator and punched the second floor. Ivan fiddled with his hand-made scarf unconsciously out of habit. It reminded him that his sister hadn't called him yet, as she usually called him every night to see how he was doing when he hadn't gotten home yet by the time she had returned from her evenings at the gym. He not only had an overload of paperwork to do, but then this investigation was suddenly sprung on him. He would be getting home later than usual. His sisters were used to him having odd hours because of his job though, so he didn't really worry. But still, he liked checking up on them, and it made him happy when Katyusha called him. His little sister... not so much.

Though his elder sister was already twenty-eight (though she had always been youthful and looked younger than Ivan... or maybe it was the height?), and he twenty-five, and his little sister Natalya twenty-one, all legal adults, they all stuck together in an apartment to help split living costs. After all, they only had each other to rely on. But it really wasn't so bad, and Ivan liked that he could be close to his sisters. Though, Natalya a little less than Katyusha. He loved them equally, of course, it was just that he preferred the company of one over the other. Katyusha was very sweet and kind, and Natalya was... a bit abrasive. The elevator gave a sharp 'ding' and the metal doors slid open smoothly. The two men stepped out and followed the signs to the direction of the door they wanted. They entered the room, but Yao immediately frowned. The large, heavy set guy in the bed had his face all wrapped up and a cast on each leg. Yao went to the foot of the bed and looked at the medical clip board.

"It says that his jaw, cheekbones, nose... mostly his whole face is completely shattered, along with his Fibula and Tibia in both legs," Yao told Ivan, "It doesn't look like we'll be talking to this guy anytime soon. Let's go check on the next one." They exited the room and went down the hall to room 223, and stepped in. There were doctors in this room, conversing with the nurses.

"Oh, I'm sorry, gentlemen. But he won't be able to talk right now. He suffered extensive damage to his intestines, and has severe internal bleeding. He's knocked out completely right now, and is being monitored. He has just came out of a very sensitive surgery in order to repair his intestines. I'm afraid you'll have to check the other two," one of the doctors spoke to them. Ivan frowned and Yao nodded before thanking the doctor, and the two walking out.

"What the hell man, these guys are torn up. I wonder what happened to them," Yao spoke up.

"That is what we are supposed to find out, da? And I am very curious as well. This seems to be a very violent attack. Either it must have involved more than one person, or they had some serious weaponry. There was only a single baseball bat found at the scene," Ivan replied, "The damage is very extensive for just that, however. I only hope that one of the two remaining is able to talk." They moved down to room 248, and entered. There were two patients in this room, one sitting up and the other seeming unable to sit up due to a full cast around his pelvic area. Yao grimaced as he saw it and Ivan's eyes only narrowed. The other had a cast on both his upper arms. Thankfully, they were both awake.

"I am Officer Wang, and this is Officer Braginski. We would like to know exactly what happened to you," Yao informed them. Ivan smiled pleasantly, folding and clasping his arms behind his back. Or at least, he was going for pleasantly. However, his smile came off much more menacing than he intended, unbeknownst to him. The two men each exchanged terrified looks.

"It was a fucking demon, man. A _demon_. The guy had fucking _wings_. Like some fucking demon of death man. It was unreal," The one with the broken pelvis spoke, "The guy crushed my hip by just stepping on hit, man." Yao's eyebrows furrowed. He looked down on the man's medical board on his bed.

"You suffered all of _that_ damage to your hip by being stomped on?" Yao asked, is tone of complete disbelief.

"I'm not lying to you man!" The guy cried, "You should have seen it! Frank here was holding the guy by his arms and then suddenly he screeches out like a fucking bird from hell and these _huge ass _wings rip out of his back and break Frank's arms and slam him into the wall and knock him out. Then he went all ape-shit on Don and smashed his face in with his fist. He fucking punched Don once and his face looked like a pot hole! It knocked him all up against the wall! And then he grabbed Don by his shirt and lifted him up off the ground like he didn't weigh a thing, and then threw him on the ground like a rag doll. Then he took Don's bat and set his devil eyes on Carl. They were like, all gold and shit and glowing! And then he swung the bat and hit Carl in the stomach, and he fucking spewed out blood like his organs just exploded. I tried to tell him to stop man but he just fucking shattered my hip man. It hurt so fucking bad I passed out." Yao listened to the story in mild disgust, not even bothering to hide it from his facial expression. And Ivan counted how many times the man said 'fucking' during his speech. He had counted eight times.

"Ok, first question... this guy, could you describe him for us?" Yao asked, "And try to be specific as possible." 'Are we really going to trust a single word this punk says?' Ivan thought to himself.

"Let me think... uh..."

"He had real blond hair, remember Richie?" Frank spoke up from the other bed.

"Yeah, man! Blond hair! It was all weird and had a piece sticking up too. I remember it cuz I was thinking how fucking dumb it looked," Richie replied, "And... what else? Before he went all crazy and shit, his eyes were more blue." Yao nodded and wrote them down in his notepad. Ivan still felt like they were wasting time.

"Is that all?" Yao asked. The two men exchanged looks before agreeing that they were done.

"Blond hair and blue eyes, how very specific," Ivan couldn't stop himself from saying sarcastically.

"Hey man! His eyes had a ring of gold in them though! Blue AND gold eyes!" Richie yelled out. These idiots were so pitifully easy to manipulate it made Ivan want to cry.

"Ok, then, next question," Yao said, "To sustain the injuries that... Frank was it? sustained, in the way you said he sustained them, he had to have been holding this blond man from behind... why exactly where you four men restraining him in the first place? From what you said, he had only gotten angry and attacked after he encountered you four and was held, presumably against his will, am I correct in assuming that?" The two men's eyes got wide and they both fell silent. Ivan scowled and cracked his knuckles.

"I believe that we asked you a question. If you do not answer truthfully, you may find that you have one extra injury~. And no one will be questioning it, da?" Ivan spoke menacingly, a small, threatening, closed-mouth grin on his face, his eyes narrowing to slits. Yao knew that they really shouldn't be threatening them, but Ivan got most of their answers this way anyways, and the method was extremely effective for these thug types.

"O-ok! Ok! We were just following him and this chick for some fun! Really we weren't going hurt them or nothing! But then they started to run when they noticed us trailing them, and Don told us that we better follow them and punish them. So we ran after them, but the chick fell, and so the guy had turned around to fight us! So we were just pushing them back into this alley and we really didn't want to hurt them but Don ordered us! And we're afraid of him! So we just came at him and at first he was like a regular guy and wasn't no big deal. He punched Frank in the face, kicked me in the stomach, and kicked Carl in the jaw. But then Don got him real good on the side of the face with his bat and sent him into the wall. He was bleeding out of his mouth and that's when Frank smacked him good on the head for getting punched and he fell to the ground. So me and Carl started kicking him in the stomach and he was coughing blood on the ground. That's when Frank grabbed him up," Richie explained fearfully. Ivan was starting to like them even less than before. Which was saying a lot.

"And the girl? What happened to her?" Yao asked in concern.

"Uh... well... Don, wanted to have fun with her, so he ordered me and Carl to hold her arms. She started to scream and stuff, but Don smacked her across the face to shut her up and made Carl gag her. That was when the other guy freaked out and turned into a demon." Both Yao and Ivan both furious at this point, and were actually a bit glad the man had beat these thugs up.

"And what did she look like?" Yao asked.

"Aw man! She had the hugest rack I've ever seen!" Richie exclaimed, Frank nodding furiously in agreement. Yao and Ivan's scowls only deepened.

"Yeah, and she had these big watery blue eyes and pale skin and hair. A real looker. Kinda looks like you..." Richie trailed off as he realized only too late his mistake. Ivan's face contorted to pure rage, and his hands clenched impossibly tight at his sides. Low growls and words were spilling from his mouth, though they were too low to be made out, and a dark aura seemed to grow around Ivan's figure.

"How dare you filth lay a hand on my dear sister," Ivan snarled, and slammed a fist into Frank's stomach before Yao could stop him, and punched Richie violently in the nose.

"Ivan, no! You can't do this! We're not supposed to do this! Remember last time you went on a violent rampage? We almost couldn't cover it up that time and that annoying weasel reporter Beilschmidt, brother of the Chief of Police almost managed to find out what had happened? Do you remember the scolding that we got? You were very close to getting fired!" Yao spoke to Ivan, frantically waving his arms. Ivan stopped his assault then, holding himself back from doing more damage. He needed to call Katyusha, right this moment.

"I must call Katyusha now. You can handle the rest for me, da?" Ivan asked, but didn't give Yao enough time to answer before stepping out of the door. Yao gave out a frustrated sigh, and knew that he had to talk to the nurses now and try to come up with an excuse for what happened. He wasn't as nearly as convincing as Ivan could be, and he was loath to do it. But still, he didn't blame Ivan for doing what he did. Just thinking about anyone touching his nephew Kiku like that, or any of his other family members would probably have gotten that same reaction out of him. So really, he didn't blame Ivan. He just wished that Ivan wouldn't dump all of his work onto him! Outside of the room, Ivan pulled out his cell phone and dial his sister's phone number. He didn't care that it was 9:30 at night. He was already power walking toward the elevator door. He was going to go and see her _now_, no matter what. The phone rang a few times before being picked up.

"Hello? Is that you brother?" Katyusha's familiar voice rang through clearly. Ivan gave out a sigh of relief.

"Sister, please tell me how you are doing," Ivan spoke frantically.

"How I am doing? I'm fine... Oh! You must be upset because I hadn't called you yet. I'm so sorry, I had completely forgotten! I just... ran into a problem on the way home... but my buddy from the gym, Alfred, he helped me, so I'm fine. I'm staying with him and his roommate tonight. I'm so very sorry for worrying you." Just hearing her voice was almost enough to reassure him of everything. Almost. As in, he was still going to go see her whether she liked it or not, and he still wanted to know why she hadn't explained anything to him yet.

"That is very interesting, because I was just at the hospital. My partner and I were sent here to interrogate some thugs about why they were found half beaten to death in an alleyway. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?" Ivan asked in his fake sweet voice that was just positively dripping with the silent promise of a threat.

"Oh, brother, please don't be angry! I really didn't want to worry you about it because I really wasn't harmed at all! Please don't be angry!" She pleaded, and Ivan could already tell that she was about to cry. Ivan was out in the parking lot by then, taking out the keys to the car that he and Yao were driving. Ivan always drove, so he didn't have to worry about getting the keys from Yao. It just occurred to him that if he took the car, Yao would have to find another way to get back to the station. 'Oh well~!' he thought, 'Walking is so good for you, Yao~! You will thank me for this later~!'

"The only way I will forgive you is if you tell me the address of where you are staying this instant. I am coming to see you," Ivan replied to her. He had to make absolutely sure that she was ok. He didn't trust the words of those scum for an instant, and he _would _be seeing for himself, one way or the other. There was a bit of yelling and talking coming from the other end, but Ivan couldn't make out the words. It only served to make him even more suspicious and high-strung. Finally, Katyusha spoke once more.

"Ok, brother. As long as you promise not to harm my friends when you come over! You must promise me!" Katyusha said in a surprisingly firm voice that Ivan rarely heard her use, "I don't want you hurting or intimidating them in any way!" Ivan sighed, and figured that what sweet, innocent Katyusha didn't know, wouldn't hurt her.

"I promise Katyusha. I promise that I won't do anything to your friends," he told her. 'Unless I find reason to, that is,' he thought to himself. And Ivan could find a reason to hurt people very easily.

"Ok, Vanya. I trust you," she said. Ivan was by now, though, immune to the pet name and the guilt trip that Katyusha was trying to pull over on him. He only made her believe that it still worked so that he wouldn't have to try hard to get her approval or to get information out of her. Then, if he deemed it necessary, he would still go against her wishes without her knowledge that he had done so. Really, it was for her own good. That last _thing _that she had tried to pass off as a boyfriend disserved what he got, in Ivan's opinion. Katyusha couldn't have really wanted a man like _that_. Ivan had saved her from wasting any more time on him before realizing what scum he was and dumping him. He had just helped the process along. Katyusha told Ivan the address, and the two exchanged goodbyes before Ivan ended the phone conversation. It was just then that he drove by the scene of the crime, where there were still members of CSI unit busily working and running around.

He gripped the steering wheel harder as he neared the address, and made a bit of a mess of his parallel parking job. But has he stomped up all seven flights of stairs, he really couldn't bring himself to care about anything other than confronting Katyusha and her 'friends'. Ivan made it to the very last apartment, and griped the doorknob so fiercely in his gloved had that it was a wonder that it didn't just bend and break from the intensity of it. He wretched the door open quickly and with such force that it banged against the wall.

"Holy shit dude!" One of the men on the couch exclaimed in surprise and fell off of the couch, barely missing hitting himself on their coffee table, which was currently littered with bottles of soda and an open, half eaten box of pizza. The man miraculously managed to keep the hand that was holding his pizza high in the air as to not drop it. Katyusha was sitting in the middle of the couch, nibbling on her pizza nervously and looking up at Ivan sheepishly through her eyelashes. The man sitting on her other side cast a scowl at the man on the floor as he sipped his tea, looking thoroughly irritated.

"Get off the bloody floor!" He snapped at him. The other man huffed.

"I'm getting to it! Jeez!" He stood from the floor and devoured the rest of the pizza slice in his hand before sitting back down. 'Blond hair, blue eyes,' Ivan mentally assessed, 'and even the odd cowlick that the thug had described. That must be one who mauled them. And... the one that protected my sister.' Though Ivan was loath to admit it to himself, he owed this blond man. Katyusha stood up then, making her way to Ivan and standing in front of him.

"Hello, brother. It's good to see you," she said bashfully. Ivan watched suspiciously as the blond man reached for another slice of pizza.

"Don't you dare get another piece. You've already eaten the hole other pizza that we got just for you! This pizza is supposed to be for Kat and I," the other man with the ridiculously huge eyebrows scolded.

"But I'm still hungry! And you guys aren't going to be able to finish it anyways!" the blond whined. Ivan finally cleared his throat loudly.

"I believe I deserve an explanation," He said. He looked at Katyusha once more, and his frown deepened as he studied the bruise on her face.

"Really, it's ok. Me and Alfred-" She was interrupted.

"Alfred and I, darling," the man with the large eyebrows interjected.

"Whatever, Artie. No one cares!" the blond, whom Ivan figured must be Alfred, spoke. The other man, 'Artie', growled and glared furiously at him.

"Um, Alfred and I," Katyusha continued, "were just attacked by these group of thugs. But he protected me and brought me back here! So there is really nothing to worry about!" But Ivan was not satisfied. Katyusha was acting suspiciously, and Ivan knew that she was hiding something. He had known her his entire life, after all. She was his sister. She couldn't keep anything from him, no matter how she tried.

"I spoke with these thugs in question, as I had told you over the phone," Ivan spoke slowly, "and they mentioned some very peculiar things about Alfred." His violet eyes landed on Alfred, who had managed to sneakily steal the slice of pizza he had been forced to put down before, while Arthur had been distracted by watching Ivan and Kat interact. When the Brit turned, he immediately smacked Alfred's hand, making him yelp and drop the pizza back down into the box instantly.

"You didn't have to hit me!" Alfred yelled.

"Can't you be serious for once in your bloody life, Alfred?" Arthur snapped at him. Alfred simply stuck his tongue out at Arthur, which only served to infuriate him even more. Katyusha gulped.

"I heard," Ivan continued, "that he turned into some sort of winged demon. I don't believe it myself, but you're trying very hard to play off this incident. It makes me suspicious. You know that I don't like secrets, sister." Katyusha nodded.

"Yes, I know..."

"So why don't you save us all the trouble, and just tell me the truth? You know that I only go to these lengths because I care so deeply for you," Ivan said, softening his tone and making her feel the guilt by playing the brother card. Alfred groaned from his seat on the couch.

"We're screwed," he stated simply. He could already tell that Katyusha's defense had shattered.

"But it really wasn't Alfred's fault!" Katyusha explained frantically, "Those thugs were trying to hurt me, and he just couldn't help himself! He just wanted to protect me! It really wasn't much different from that one time that you protected me, brother." Katyusha's voice softened at the last sentence, and Ivan grew a bit pale. He didn't want to think about that again, not now. There was plenty different from that incident so long ago and this one. For one thing, the thugs were still all alive...

"But what about the wings? I wish to know if they were lying about that point. They seemed very insistent upon it," Ivan urged his sister. Katyusha whimpered and she turned to look at Alfred fearfully. Alfred stood up from the couch carefully, sighing.

"It's ok, Kat. It looks like it's unavoidable now," he reassured her. The pet name annoyed Ivan greatly. She allowed him to call her that? He had noticed that the other man had called her Kat as well. Just what was going on with these men and Katyusha? Then, Alfred started to take off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Ivan asked in alarm, his mind jumping to conclusions.

"Chill out man, it's ok. How else am I gonna show you?" 'Show me _what_?' Ivan thought frantically, but he couldn't deny how his eyes took in the excellently toned chest and arms of the tanned blond. He was _attractive_. Ivan was only broken out of his revere by the great 'whooshing' sound and the slow spreading of large, magnificent brown wings from Alfred's back. Ivan couldn't keep the surprised look from his face if he tried.

"Watch it, wanker!" Arthur interjected as one of Alfred's wings had almost hit him in the face as it extended to its full wingspan. Ivan simply stared at the wings, entranced by them.

"Yes, yes. Stare in amazement. I _do _have wings and they _are _real, thank you," Alfred said. He flicked the end of his left wing and it hit Arthur right in the nose, which only caused him to yell at Alfred more.

"So, all of that was true? The wings and the inhuman force you used to injure them?" Ivan whispered.

"Yup. And I don't have any wounds because they totally healed on me, but they started it first, ok!" Alfred insisted.

"Do not worry, I and my partner have already gotten the thugs' confession," Ivan told him, "It can easily be seen as a simple self-defense. Well, it could, if their wounds were not so severe..." Alfred's look turned sheepish.

"I guess I don't know my own strength?" He said, rubbing the back of his head and chuckling nervously. Ivan straightened himself and narrowed his eyes.

"You are very lucky that I do not like being in debt, Alfred. I will do this one favor for you and keep your little problems a secret. However," he paused then, and Katyusha fixed a worried stare on her brother's form, "I will have to many things in order to clean up this little predicament that you're in with these thugs. I can easily get them with assault charges for Katyusha, but for you, it is a completely different matter. I expect you to do a favor for me in return."

"But brother! He saved my life!" Katyusha cried out. Alfred only shook his head.

"Don't worry, Kat. It's ok. Your bro is right. He's doing a lot of things for me to keep this all a secret. I can't just take advantage of that. I have to do something in return, too," he spoke. Kat backed off at this, but her worried look never strayed from her face.

"I am glad you see it my way, Alfred. As an investigator, I have very... limited power. Sometimes, it is very difficult to catch suspects without proper evidence, even if it is obvious that they are the culprit. It would be greatly beneficial to have someone on the outside that would be capable of, how do you say?, 'bringing them to justice'? If you could publically bring their acts to light, or convince them in some way to confess, then it would take a great burden off of my job."

"So you're telling us," Arthur butted in, figuring that if Alfred wasn't going to ask questions then he sure as hell would in an attempt to discourage Alfred from taking this deal. It just felt like a deal with the devil to him, "that you want Alfred to be your thug or something, to beat up people when you tell him to?" Arthur felt pinned down by those intense violet orbs, felt like he was being dissected by them.

"Your little friend Alfred is free to take or decline any job that I offer him," Ivan replied, "I was saying that it would be helpful of him to make it a bit easier to catch criminals."

"Don't worry, Artie! I'll be fine. This is a great opportunity to start off my career! And if what I do helps catch criminals and saves people, then that's good enough for me. I can handle whatever comes along!" Alfred flashed a toothy grin in Arthur's direction. Arthur couldn't help but find Alfred's statements endearing, even if he was being a naive simpleton.

"All I'm saying is that you should at least try to think these things through."

"I am, I am! If I find out anything, I can give you anonymous tips to slip to the newspaper. It's all genius my friend," Alfred spoke, pointing to his cranium, "genius." Arthur grumbled, his hand coming up to rub his face as he sighed:

"Do whatever you want." Alfred beamed brightly and turned back to Ivan with purpose, his wings shuddering and fluffing up with excitement. He quickly moved up to stand beside Katyusha, who was standing beside Ivan. Ivan couldn't tear his eyes away from those wings. The way they moved was so peculiar, every little twitch or ruffle of feather so intricately connected with Alfred's own feelings and psyche. But even still, they were the same as limbs, and it looked as if Alfred controlled them as easily as his arms or legs. They were both being controlled and instinctually moving on their own at the same time. It greatly intrigued Ivan. He wondered how those wings would react through different feelings, through the harshest pain and the most intense pleasure... Ivan pulled himself from his thoughts as Alfred spoke to him.

"Ok, I think I understand. You just call on me and I'll get the bad guys and be the hero! How are you going to call me? OH! I should have a super cool signal and we can meat on the rooftops like Batman!" Arthur groaned from his seat on the couch and took a large gulp of his tea, wishing that it was alcohol instead. Ivan raised an eyebrow at the enthusiastic blond, his eyes moving from the expressive wings to expressive blue orbs. They seemed to change shades of blue like a shifting sea. For now, they were calm and clear like the tropical water of the Caribbean, and emotions were seen easily. He wondered just how many shades those depths could go. This Alfred boy was getting only more and more intriguing by the moment.

* * *

><p>And that was the chapter, folks! Finally, Ivan and Alfred meet, eh? Not really the best of circumstances, but all is well! The plot will definitely pick up in the next chapter, if I ever figure out what I really want to do with this. XD<p> 


End file.
